Be Careful What You Wish For
by southparkgirl101
Summary: Kyle is left hurt and broken in a hospital bed, after a fight gone wrong. Cartman on the other hand, was on the other end of the line, stuck in a coma. He knew he always wanted to see him like this, beaten to a bloody pulp, begging for mercy. But when Kyle realizes that he is the one responsible for his friends fate, a fate that is minutes from death, he can't take the guilt.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N~ I don't know how many chapter this will be, but as many or as few it is, just know that every bit will be sad. This is not meant to be a happy story, or make you smile and laugh. It's meant for you to read, and just read. It is not a Kyman love story, alothough it does focus on thier friendship. There will most likely be character death in later chapters, or maybe sooner ones, so dont say I didnt tell you so! Dont worry, there'll always be a happy ending in my stories! Please reveiw! Thank you, ~M**

* * *

I stormed out into the green field, freshly covered in dew. He stood in the center watching me approach, as if he'd been expecting me to come. His gaze followed my every motion as I got closer, until I was so close it forced him to step back. I clenched my fists, crumpling the piece of paper in my right hand. We stared at each other, glaring. It took every being of my body to not kill him, right here, right now. I pointed a finger and poked him hard under the collarbone, causing him to clench his jaw. "You've gone to far this time fatass!" I yelled, stepping forward. "This was the last fucking straw!" He smirked at my threats, but I saw the strained look in his eyes. He glanced down at the hand at my side that held the poster.

"I see you've seen my awareness posters, Kahl." He raised an eyebrow. I gasped, and shoved him to the ground.

"You piece of shit! This isn't awareness, it's lies!" People began gathering around the center of the field, whipping out phones. He grabbed the back of his head in pain, and made his way off the ground. "You can't keep doing this!" My last sentence caused him to smile.

"What is it I keep doing, Kahl? I'm just making people aware of what your doing," I stared at him in disbelief.

"What the fuck am I doing?" I pushed him back to the ground, and stuck the poster in his face. "Cartman, you put posters of HITLER all over the school, saying that Jews need to be put back in their rightful place!" I threw the poster to the side, before a sharp pain ran up my leg and I collapsed next to Cartman. He smiled and nodded, and kicked me in the other shin. I screamed, as did a few of the spectators.

"You worthless kike, I did it for a reason, and you know that-" I pulled my eyes closed tight hiding the tears about to fall. "You know that you don't even have the right to live-" A flash of rage hit me like a wave, and I sprung up through the pain, and punched him in the jaw. He stumbled back, and wiped a long bloody streak across his face.

"If there was anyone on this planet who didn't deserve to live, it would be you!" I spat, swinging again. This time, he fell over holding his nose and yelling in agony. I stood over the whimpering boy, and eyed his nose which was clearly broken. When he noticed my shadow, he looked away.

"You fucking piece of shit," He coughed. I wrinkled my nose in disgust, and turned to walk away. My feet carried me so quickly, it was almost a run. I was almost to the school doors when I heard someone gasp behind me. I glanced back, only to have Cartman's fist slam against my jaw. I fell to my knees, arms covering my face. Drops of blood fell onto my pants, his face almost completely covered in it. His foot came at my stomach so hard it knocked the wind out of me. He kept kicking me, keeping a sick pace. Feeling like I would break open, I turned over. As soon as I did, he stomped on my back, sending a crack up my spine. I screamed in agony, but he didn't stop. You could hear the bones cracking through bloody screams. I accidentally moved one of my arms away from my sides, which was crushed under Cartmans weight. There was a sickening rip, and I gaped at my arm, overwhelmed in pain, and looked at the bone poking through my skin. He smiled, as if it were a victory. This made me go numb. He couldn't win. I pushed myself, weak and in bloody tears to stand up. He stared, eyes wide at the damage he had done. "I wish you were dead." Cartman, of all people, started to cry. I took this as an opportunity to grab a rock, and bash it against his head. He looked at me, shocked, but his eyes slowly narrowed and rolled back in his head. The second he hit the ground, I began stomping on his chest, breaking almost all of his ribs.

"Kyle!" A shriek erupted behind me, but I kept going. "Holy shit, Kyle stop your going to kill him!" I felt a pair of arms wrap around my waist and pull me to the ground once again. Stan had a horrified look plastered to his pale face, as he sat their, restraining me. I attempted to kick Cartman one last time, but Stan pinned me to the ground. My arm gushed blood, and when he saw this, he left his place and puked. Sirens rang in the distance, getting closer by the second. With every blink, my vision grew cloudier. Flashing lights approached fast, and I watched as paramedics ran to Cartman, beaten to a bloody pulp, and loaded him on a stretcher. I smiled to myself, as I watched the ambulance doors close. I had won. It was my win, and only mine. More paramedics rushed towards me, spewing useless commands. I allowed them to hoist me onto a stretcher, just as perfect white flakes began to fall from the sky. I wheezed, trying to gather what it took to stay breathing. A hand reached over and pressed a mask to my face, and I gulped in air, savoring the taste. The sky grew dark, but slowly, everything grew into nothing but black. There was only one thing on my mind before I passed out, and that was victory.

* * *

The ceiling fan spun, sending the smell of blood and sterile sheets under my nose. I could tell where I was, judging by the thin blankets and sound of machinery by my side. I slowly opened my eyes just to reassure my judgment, and sure enough, I was in the hospital. My left arm was heavily bandaged and slung just above my pillow, so thin it couldnt even count as a pillow. My right arm on the other hand had so many wires coming from it, it looked mechanic. When I tried to adjust, I became aware of the brace on my back. It wasnt near a full body cast, but a large band making it difficult to bend over. I looked around the white room, utterly numb, and slammed my head back down against the pillow causing the bed to shake. I heard a door open, and shut just as quickly. A nurse made her way around the curtain and fiddled with some of the machines to my side, and then looked at me, surprised. "Your...your awake! Welcome back," She exlaimed, smiling. "Your parents left about an hour ago, and I think they'll be back this evening," Pulling a strand of hazel hair behind her ear, she retreated to the bottom of my bed and took the clipboard. "Are you feeling okay? Is there anything I can get you?" I bit my lip, and gasped at the sudden pain. My fingers reached up, and felt a long line of stitches on the inside of my mouth. "How about some more pain medication," She asked, almost requesting it. I nodded and layed back as she injected a orange liquid in the bag above my head. I watched it travel through the thin tube, and into my arm. I sighed, and rubbed my lip, not at all hurting anymore. "You should be glad your okay; your frien- uh...classmate wasnt so lucky." My eyes snapped open and I stared at the nurse. Her smile disappeared, and a look of worry crossed her face.

"What happened...is he okay?" I choked out. I quickly cleared my throat, forcing the sympathy away. She hestitated, and set down the clipboard.

"I'll bring you some juice, try and get some rest." She walked quickly away from my sight, breathing heavily. I glared, realizing the stitches on my face.

"Hey! Is he _okay_?" I yelled. Her footsteps came to a hault, and she slowly poked around the curtain. "What _happened_ to him?" I clenched my teeth, knowing well _what_ happened.

"He's currently in the ICU," My eyes widen, and I feel an urge to vomit. "He...he's in a coma." A wave of guilt washes over me, but I swallow it and just nod. "We...we're trying everything, but...six ribs, and his leg, not to mention his head..." She brought a hand over her mouth, and I saw a tear run down her tan cheek. "It...it's not very likely that..." I felt myself on the verge of tears, but shook it away. That fat basterd deserved what he got. He had never thought in his wildest dreams that I would have ever done what I did, and that's why I did it. He had always assumed that he could get away with everything, and make a fool out of me. I pushed it out of my mind- put him out of my mind, until I was forced to see it with my own eyes. That was the last straw. That piece of shit had it coming, and I didnt regret a thing I did or said. The nurse broke into quiet sobs, and I glanced away, knowing what she would say next. Almost in whisper she said something, and then looked at me to make sure I understood. "...that he will...will...make it." She made her way from the room, and quietly shut the door. As soon as I heard the click, I let all my emotions flood from me. I cried for hours. I cried until I saw the sun set and the room grow dark from through the blinds. I cried all through the night. I cried, because for once, I felt guilty. After endless hours, my cheeks were flushed and my face was soaked. A final wet stream ran onto my gown, and it started all over again. My eyes burned. My head ached as if I had just been shot, and then was beaten and shot again. The pain medication had long since worn off, but I was already numb from the shaking. A doctor came once in all this time to change my water, but after that, I was completly alone. I was alone, left to know that I had just killed my best friend.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N- Oh my god, I can't even begin to tell you guys how sorry I am! I've been SO uninspired latley, and just needed a break. But I'm back baby! So this was originally going to be the third chapter, but I moved some things around so it would make more sense. I can now say, truthfully, that I will continue this story until the end. The fact is, I watched Grey's Anatomy and got like this spark of inspiration. Oh, by the way, if you're new, this is really depressing and will get worse. JUST A HEADS UP! So for the WAY late update, again, _we're sorry. Sorry. So sorry. _PLEASE reveiw, and tell me how i'm doing! It means the WORLD to me! And if you have suggestiond for the plot/storyline, I'd be more than happy to hear them :) THANK YOU SO MUCH!**

* * *

The day dragged on, leaving behind more wasted hours. The time that ticked by, the minutes I spent laying in the cold hospital bed, wondering which seconds I had would be his last. His state, and mine as well, we're my own fault. I knew at the time that if I could just make him suffer, it would be enough to satisfy me. But just the fact that I knew how much I hurt him made me shudder.

I tried to make sense of why I could be having feelings towards Cartman, but nothing clicked. He had never been anything but cruel to me, making my life a living hell. So, revenge should feel good, right? I just couln't make sense of it. The other thing that didn't make sense was the fact that I was set on making his pain show, but when it was revealed, I felt a pain that didn't involve blood. But it did. I forced this upon him. I put him in a coma. I felt the pain, and it was unbearable. But now it was his blood that I couldn't bare to come across, and now it was _his _pain that I was feeling.

A concerned nurse walked in, and checked on all the machines, more slowly than usual. I waited for her to finish, but she chose to delay leaving, and re-check. Finally, she finished, only to retreat to the hallway and come back with an arrangement of flowers. I scrunched my nose ot the floral fumes rising from the basket. "Your parents stopped by, and left you some things," The nurse chirped, setting the vase of roses and tulips at my feet. I took the card from her outstretched hand, and simply looked at it. "They hope you're feeling much better soon." When I opened the card, as plain as dirt, I note she practically quoted what was written.

_We hope you feel much better in time._

I swallowed, a sudden sense of guilt hitting me like a bomb. There was not even the slightest hint of sadness in what my mother clearly had written, not that I didn't already know I would be disowned for my outburst. I guess it made it better that they even took the time to prepare send me something worth giving, but then I started second guessing myself. The little tag poking through the leaves was from the gift shop below, a trademark **HP** encirled in cursive nonsense. Now I knew where the bouquet had come from. And, since my parents hadn't even once visited since my arrival, I knew it wasn't from them.

"Who are those from?" I questioned sadley, pointing to the flowers. Her face lit up.

"Oh, well your friend came by a few minutes ago to drop them off and-" I snapped out of my depressed daze an practically fell from the bed.

"Is he still here?" The nurse nodded, and signaled towards the ajar door. "I've sent for him. He should be on his way up shortly." I smiled weakly, and sat up. She gasped at my stuggle to move, and quickly slid over to my side, reaching for the pillow.

"I'm fine, thank you." She propped the thin pad back behind my exposed back against my request, and it was only until I felt the cloth press against my skin did I realize I was half naked...in a dress. I felt my face go hot

"Do you need some air? A fan, maybe?" I blinked up at her, trying to shake away the growing heat.

"Y-Yes please." She smiled, and opened a small closet behind her. I sunk into the bed once the cold breeze surrounded my face, sending a chill up my back. I turned my head so it was cozied against the pillow, and shut my eyes. I waited to allow myself to stop worrying, or at least _rest_ until I heard the door fly shut. I moved myself into a position were I could easily pass for being asleep, and closed my eyes once again. My thoughts were interupted when I heard a soft knocking at my door. It was so quiet, that I assumed it had come from the room across from mine, but then I heard it again and sat up. The familar clicks of the blonde nurse's heels were noticably clacking against the tile at a quickened pace, and they came to a sudden hault.

"Oh, well hello there!" I heard her exclaim. I waited for a response from the visitor, but instead the door silently creeked open.

Slowly, Stan entered the room, the preppy nurse at his side. His eyes were flying around, uneasy with his surroundings. I could tell he was shaking when he got closer, but he didn't get within five feet of my bed. He stopped and tore his hat from his raven hair, gripping it in his hands.

"Hey Ky," He whispered, almost in audible. Quickly the nurse patted him on the back, nudging him forward. He stumbled slightly, but kept his place. She sighed at her attempt, and set a small cup next to the flowers.

"Take your pills, hun, they'll help with the pain." I nodded, and with that she left the room. The silence that traveled through the small space was unbearable. Stan nervously fiddled with his thumbs, hat in between his hands.

"Hey, dude?" He looked up, but when his eyes met mine, he gazed back down at his thumbs.

"Yeah what's up Ky?" He said, holding back a cry. I tore the blankets from my legs, one of which encased in a cast, and sat on the edge of the bed. I purposly showed him my wounds, heavily wrapped in bandages. He only looked further away.

"Stan, are you okay?" He just now seemed to realize how down he was being and forced an overly fake smile on his face.

"Yeah, of course I am, but...are you?" I watched his wet eyes travel over my heavily bandaged body, only to have tears gather around his eyes. I sighed when I realized that he had been crying before he came here, his eyes already red and swollen. He only managed to force out the last of his sentence before turning towards the wall and start to sob, mumbling through the wails. I sat there, petrified. He continued to wail with his hands pressed against his forehead, until Stan heard my cast clink against the floor. In the time it took him to gather himself into what he would call normal, I made my way to his spot in the room. For the first time today, he looked at my face, his dark navy blue eyes electric against his tears.

"Stan..." I began, trying to find something to say that would comfort him. From what I did, what I made everybbody witness, it was clear that there would be no comfort. I understood why he was weary of being near me, and how even the sight of me made him scared. Before I could find anything to say, I felt him close me in an embrace, crying on my shoulder. "Stan?"

"Kyle, thank god you're okay. Thank god." Feeling my own tears stinging my eyes, I let them fall, wrapping my arms around his back.

We stayed like that, crying in each others warmth, not caring who saw. He stepped on my foot in an attempt to pull me closer, and burst into hysteria thinking he had hurt me. I tried to tell him it was okay, but he didn't believe me, and continued bawling. I tried to stop my cries, but I couldn't. There was no reason, but it felt so good. It was even more comforting than holding Stan in my arms. We cried, until we had nothing left to cry, and then we just screamed. Even though our sobs echoed through the halls, no one bothered to come check. Maybe they just knew. Or maybe they just didn't care.

I thought he had fallen asleep. His arms were limp around my waist, and his head rolled aimlessly against my chest. His breathing had slowed, against the occasional sniffle. My hand continued stroking his back, tracing the seams on his faded jacket. One time I stopped this simple action, and he started to sob. I dare not move, not wanting to wake him. Trying not to move, I loosened my arms and set my head on top of his blanket of black hair. Surprisingly, I found myself to be tired, but there was no point in trying- I would just wake right back up. I stopped my hand, and moved it down to his waist when I felt his lips against my ear. Slowly, as if he were asleep, his lips parted. Stan's minty breath travled across my skin, finding its way to my nose. I inhaled, but it smelt less desirable.

"I saw him, Kyle." I was startled by the sudden voice, and glanced down to see Stan, no longer sleeping. He wasn't looking at me, but just staring blankley at the bed. "I tried to tell myself that it wasn't your fault, and that you just snapped- that it was an accident, but..." Stan trailed of into small whimpers, before biting his lip. "But I couldn't." I looked down, pressing my lips against his head.

"I don't expect you to think that it was." I hushed, trying to stay calm. "I put him where he is." Stan tore away from my grasp, and burst into more tears, shaking his head.

"I tried to look past it, Kyle. I really did. But everytime I saw his face...I just saw you. I saw you, and I felt like...like I shouldn't even be here for you. To be honest, I came to see Eric. But I just couldn't leave," He practically fell from the small bench, and stumbled to the door. "I came to say goodbye, because I got a call that Eric might not make it through the night. And I came to tell you."

"Tell me what?" I squeaked, letting more tears fall down my cheeks.

"Tell you that if he makes it through this, you're going to be in a real hell, Kyle." He grabbed the handle, and flung the door open, stepping into the hall. "And if he dies, you might as well be dead too." The door slammed shut, sending a wave of warm air rushing past me. I knew I shouldn't be alive for what I did. I should be in his place. I should be the one in the coma. But...just not him.

* * *

I stood with my head against the door, listening to the quiet murmers of patients outside. The ramble of drama outside the closed door had come to a hault, night being on occasion anyone got any sleep. My lights were out, along with every room in the corridors. I stepped away from the small window everytime a figure passed, engulfing myself in the darkness. They hadn't gone in any of the rooms for some time, so I slowly brought the door open enough so I could peek down the hall. It was visibly empty, and at the other end, shown the sigh of the ICU. I slid from the crack, shutting the door behind me, and trotted down the hall barefoot.

The ground was unbelievably cold. It enhanced the fact that I wasn't wearing anything but a thin nightshirt, its back completly gone. Each step I took, it made me shiver, the AC already sweeping through the small hospital. As I slid carefully against the walls, trying to avoid contact with the doctors, I began scanning the patient's board posted on the wall outside of each individual room. As if by coincidence, the cases got worse as I approached the ICU. One man having pnemonia, the next dying of pancreatic cancer. Some of the rooms were empty, and when I looked at the clipboard, the word DESEASED had been stamped at the bottom.

My heart raced as I came upon the wall that signaled the turn to where, I hoped, I would find him. I stuck my head around the cornor, and began to jog to the next hallway down. I was surprised when the deadly silence suddenly turned at the next cornor, into a panic filled hall. Doctors raced from room to room, as dying childeren were being rolled to surgery. I was lost in the nonsense, everybody having something more important to do than worry about my whereabouts.

As I pushed past a panicked nurse, she collided with my cast, and fell to the floor. Nothing around us stopped, everything a constant blur. I held my breath, waiting for someone to drag me back to my room. Instead, she quickly scooted up, and continued to run to her designated room. With a sigh of relief, I continued on.

Everytime I tried to catch a glance at the name for the room, I was pushed out of the way so someone could get inside. Deciding the best course of action, I stole a eyeful of the paper, only reading the last name, realizing how many actual Erics' there were here.

Shnieder. No. Quimbey. No. McCormick. What? I re-read the paper, not noticing the first name, and stuck my head in the door. Half expecting to see Kenny hooked up to a bunch of machines struggling for his cursed life, instead I saw his father, vomiting in a bucket. Several doctors surrounded him, but not doing much. I pulled on the trim of the door, forcing myself into the open room. All eyes remained on Stewart, exempt, for his. I could tell he was in pain. He looked at me, knowing oh to well who I was. Surley Kenny had told him that I was here, but then again, seeing him like this didn't make me so sure. As soon as I felt his strained eyes cast a glance at me, I ran from the room, bumping into another doctor. Knowing nothing would happen, I split, but was grabbed by the string in my attire.

"What are you doing outside of your room at this hour?" His cold voice drained my breath, as I tried for an explanation. "What's your last name?" He questioned dryly, pulling me back the route I came.

"C-Cartman." He stopped dead in his tracks, and glared.

"Cartman?" I nodded, and he dragged me to one of the nurses I probably bumped into. "Kate, where's 'Cartman'?" She pointed to a door just to the left of us, and I was tugged to the door. As he reached down to jiggle the handle, I lifted my good leg and brought it up to his shin, kicking hard. He let out a moan, before collapsing to the tile. "Nurse? Nurse! Code Red! Code Red!" I felt the stares of nurses quickly moving away from me. Just as I spotted three large men coming at me with a dangerous speed, I burst into the room, shutting the door behind me. When my fingers fumbled blindley for the lock, there wasn't one. Stupid hospitals.

I slid down the door, gasping for breath. It wasn't long until people were shoving the door against my back, the brace bending in its place. I let out a shrill cry, as pain exploded throughout my body as the door slammed against my weak body. With every slam, it opened further, until doctors flooded in, grabbing at me. I allowed them the pick me up, and fling me into a wheelchair. It turned harshley, skidding from the room. But I didn't care. I let them take me away from my goal, because I had seen enough.

One glance at the frail figure, and you would have never guessed it to be Cartman. His big, powerful arms were wasted to practically bone. Wires streaming from every inch of his chest, and a mask hiding few stitches on his face that forced him to breath. Even watching his chest rise and fall for those few seconds, I could tell it was artificial. It made me sick to my stomache, to be honest. Seeing him like that, so weak and lifeless, it made me want to cry. It made me want to die.


	3. Chapter 3

I watched as the snow fell to the icy road below from the window. I propped my head on my hand and closed my eyes, listening to the chirping of birds on the telephone wire, the only other sound than the constant beeping of my heart monitor. The windowsill was damp from last nights storm, melted snow seeping through near invisible cracks. I was startled by a pecking at the window, and peeled my eyes open to see a sparrow. It tilted it's head slightly, and chirped. I would have smiled at this, little things like this always made me happy. But as I watched the little bird sing its song and flap it's wings, I noticed that one of its wings was hanging at its side, limp. I could only imagine the pain it was in, not being able to fly with its friends, soaring above the small town buildings. But yet, when I looked at the bird, it acted merrier than ever. For some reason, this made me smile. Just watching it leap around the wood sill, waving around its good wing, having the time of its life. It made no sense, but it would make the most hated, most evil person in the world crack a grin for even a second. Everyone would, exempt Cartman. I felt the need to cry at the thought of him, out of sadness and rage, but I couldn't. Instead, I screamed. I knew a nurse would come running, but I did anyway. I screamed until the windowsill was blank. Confused, I pulled open the window and looked outside. Two stories down, on the white frosted ground, lay an unmoving sparrow. I glare, and slam the window closed just as three doctors come running in. "We heard you screaming, are you okay?" I just sit back down without answering, and cover my face with one arm. "Are you going to be alright, then?" I feel one of the doctors take my arm from its place on my knee and prick near my wrist.

"What the fuck!" I sneer, pulling it back to look at the newly added wire in my arm, along with the other two.

"Your blood pressure is extremely low, and you can't eat or drink anything by mouth for a while." Two of the doctors leave the room, and pull the door closed on thier way out. "We're monitering your stomache to see when it could be safe for you to consume anything." I reach down and grab onto the brace inclosing me in my own body. She looks at me, and shakes her head. "That is for your back, and it cant come off now." I pull on it harder until I gasp. I arch over in pain, and let the shock pass. Without any sign of sympathy, she makes sure the brace is still in tact and follows the other two doctors out of the room. I sit there for almost an hour, doubled over in pain, until I spot a cup on the desk just across the room. It contained pills, the pills I hadnt taken when asked. It had been almost three days, and every day they brought me a new cup filled with six pills. The lot of them where pain killers, and probably at least eight were drugs to make you fall asleep. Not wanting to move, I reached for the cup, and crashed onto the floor. I let out a cry, and noticed the doctors standing at my door, watching me through the window. With an effort, I dragged my weak body to the small table which held the answer to my pain. My eyes met thiers through the glass window, and they watched as I reached for the cup. Just as my fingers, shaking, met the plastic container, the door burst open. Quickly, I shoved the entire thing of pills into my mouth and swallowed, just as they grabbed my arms and flung me onto the bed. The impact forced another four pills down, as I gasped for air. Five more. I was coughing violently at this point, but continued to swallow one by one. Only smaller pills remained in my mouth, and with one final gulp, they were gone.

"Who gave him this many meds?"

"He was supposed to take them hourly, but I guess he just forgot about them," She shrugged. The older woman glared, and snapped on a glove.

"It dosnt look like he forgot, now does it?" I felt a finger plunge into my throat, and I gagged until it pulled out.

"He's has no food, he cant vomit!" A tall, pale woman yelled. Her gray scraggly hair was wrapped in a tight bun, and her eyes matched. I glared, as I continued to cough.

"We have to pump his stomach, or he could die from overdose!" The room went silent, aside from my gagging. The circle around me nodded, and the bed was rolled from the room. The hallway lights shone a bright yellow, forcing me to cover my eyes. The wheels clicked along the marble floor, and seemed to roll forever. Between the yelling and screaming, I heard a static beeping to my right, and the bed came to a hault. "His heart," I heard the woman gasp. I turned my head to examine the heart monitor, but all I could see was white. Everything moved in slow motion, clouded by a white mist. I tried to blink, but couldnt. The mist turned into a fog, which quickly turned into a mask. There was nothing to see, or anything that I could. My breath slowed, and I could no longer get air. Despretly trying to breathe, I tryed to open my mouth, but couldnt. It was as if I was paralyzed. I tryed to cry, but my eyes were useless. Instead, I lay there, and let go of everything. My regrets, memories, pains, I shut it away before I couldnt even remember anything. It all became foggy, but I didnt care. I felt myself lose control of my body, and my mind. The only thing left that I was able to see, was a light so bright it made me...happy.

* * *

_I saw them there, all of them. Even though I knew they wernt dead, this was my comfort. Kenny stood there, arms crossed, a huge grin reaching his ears. His orange parka was unzipped, and his hood fell to his back exposing his dirty blonde locks. Stan at his side, a softer expression on his face, raven hair uncovered by his hat. He stood by Wendy, thier fingers interlocked, waving at my with her other hand. And there was Clyde and Craig, Craig flipping me off, but smiling. Clyde of course was by Bebe, blonde hair falling in perfect ringlets over her shoulders. Butters sat in the center, as happy as life itself. And in his lap, arms reaching, sat Ike. I didnt know why, but I just knew what to do. I glided along the light, reaching out to my comfort. When my fingers, unscratched and unstiched, touched the light that was my friends, it didnt disappear. Didnt sink into the darkness, didnt fade away. There was nothing that could be more perfect. There was, but I couldnt find it. The lights looked at me, pressing thier hands on my body, embracing me in warmth. I met the eyes of Stan, who was still smiling. He always knew when I was upset just by looking at me, but this time was different. 'Where's Eric?' My voice flowed through the nothingness, soft and angelic. There was no point in calling him Cartman, he wouldnt be aware of the difference. Bebe spoke up, her voice like a song. A song sung by a sparrow.  
'It is not his time to go, Kyle. Be happy, don't worry about the hate you left behind.' I understood, but shook my head. _

_'But it wasnt hate, it was guilt. I wont- can't be happy knowing I left him like that,' They stared at me, a look of compassion reached everyone of them. 'I cant be left knowing that I was the one who left him like that.' I said, my words echoeing through the white. _

_'Then why did you?' I looked for the speaker, but everyone's eyes were by my feet. 'Why did you go?' I bit my lip, and turned. _

_'I didnt mean to go! It wasnt my fault!' I yell, my voice somewhat mellowed by the clouds. _

_'But you did. You knew that those pills would end your life-'_

_'I was in pain! They were to stop the pain, not kill me,' I shout back, hands moving away from my body. I watch, mortified, as the lights of my friends disappear into the clouds. 'Hey! Wait, don't go,' I beg, falling to my knees, airy tears falling in my lap. 'Dont leave me,' I sobbed, and despretly got up and searched for them. There was no sign of anything, exempt me. And I stood there, not knowing what to do, but collapse into more invisable tears. In the distance, I heard laughter. There were many sounds surrounding my heaven, but no matter what, they all faded eventually. There was one sound though, that didnt fade, but only got closer. When the heavy footsteps stopped I looked up, and gasp. 'Cartman,' He glares at me, an oxegen mask covering his mouth, tubes up his nose and his arm, leading to a beeping heart monitor. His eyes are closed, but his face only gets more angry. _

_'Get up, Jew.' He commands, his voice scratchy and dry. I stand up, and look hard at him, realizing the transparency. 'In case you're wondering, kike, I'm not dead.' I swallow, not needing to or getting anything from it. I simply nod. 'Why did you leave me, alone, and dying?' His words tear me apart, and as I become more scared inside, the clouds burn, and the light turns to smoke. I cough, and fall back to the ground, now coal. 'Why did you do this to me, Kahl? Why did you hurt me so-' And with a gasp, I begin to fall. I dont scream, because whatever I had was stuck in my throat. As I plummet, smoke whistling past my hair, I see him, falling with me. He's standing on a platform that isnt really there, following me while I fall. 'Why-' I claw the air in front of me, until I can feel where he should be. There was nothing to feel, but yet I felt him. My hands reached through his stomach, but I could feel his warmth. And when I felt his light itself, he turned into something less transparent. His body began to solidify, and it gave me something to hold on to. I dangled, holding his legs, never wanting to let go. _

_'I did it because I hate you, Cartman! You're undoubtfully the most self centered, racist, predjudice piece of shit on the entire planet, and I hurt you because I couldnt let you hurt anyone else anymore!' He looked down at me, clinging to his legs for dear life, and frowned._

_'You really are just a stupid Jew, arnt you?' My eyes widen, and I clench my jaw. 'Remember your bitch of a mother telling you when you were younger, that if someone teases you and makes fun of you, it means they like you?' He smirks, and shakes his legs. I gasp, and wrap my antire body around his feet. 'Kahl, why do you think I've waisted half of my life taunting you and making your life an utter hell?' I close my eyes, and shake my head._

_'No,' I feel his body become warmer, his light growing. 'You...you cant...' His legs become more like mine, and slowly he turns. _

_'You have two options Kahl, option one- hold on to me, and don't fall. You'll be free to see Stan and Kenny, but they wont be true friends, only a light, a light that imitates what you left behind.' I tighten my grip, and close my eyes as tears begin to fall. 'The longer you hold on, the less time I have up there,' My eyes shoot open, and I bring my head up to look at him, his light almost full. I understand what he means. I know that he wouldnt live much longer anyway, but... 'Or,' He begins. 'You can trust me.' I look back down at the blackness below._

_'Why would I trust you-' I sneer, digging my nails into his calf. I take one final look at his face, emotionless. 'What is it then?' His lips part, and he bends down to my ear. _

_'Let go,' He whispers. 'Let go of the guilt.' My eyes plead with him, but as they do, I hear his heart monitor go flat. He mearly glances at the stRait line, and looks back down at me. 'Im trusting you, now trust me.' Slowly, I unwrap my arms from around him, as I see his stitches vanish, and his wounds disappear. With one breath, one that feels too real, I let go, and fall back into the nothingness._

* * *

_As I fall, my body jolts. I close my eyes, as the energy fills my body. Another jolt, and my eyes open, not to see the Carmtan's spirit, or the firey depths of hell, but a light. A light, not a beautiful inviting one, but electric._

* * *

**A/N~ This was hard for me to write. I dont like it when I kill people, espescially ones I love. Just in case you didnt get what happened, I'll reveiw. Cartman was in a coma when Kyle died. Kyle was in heaven, until he started feeling his guilt, which happened to take the form of Cartman. When he was forced to face his guilt, he went to hell. When they fell, Kyle grabbed onto Cartman, keeping him from falling. The longer Kyle held onto his guilt, the faster Cartman slipped in the real world. When he said let go, he was talking about his guilt he felt for him. And when he finally did, he ended up sparing Cartman's life, because he let go of his guilt. See, this is getting sad. I'll update by the end of the week. ~M**


	4. Chapter 4

It was surreal. The feeling of being light as air, almost as if I were nothing. It was almost comforting, the little amount of effort it took to move, almost like the feeling of being carresed by clouds. I could jump, and stay suspended by nothing. My movements were light, and it took no pain. Everything that hurt, all the cuts, scars, they were gone. My legs hung free of no cast, and back free of a brace. The imperfections of mine were invisable to my own eyes, seeing nothing but a beautiful light covering my skin. My senses had escalated, seeing the once dull colors of my surroundings a sudden overwhealming electric. I could smell everything, the grass, the wind, even though there was nothing in this bliss. The shadows that should be there were replaced with bursts of light, shining bright. I danced through the air, toes barley making contact with the lime green grass. The birds sang, their song usually so annoying to me, now sounded angelic. You could feel, your fingertips tingling at the sense of whatever crossed your mind. You could taste what you hadn't eaten, and better yet, anything you imagined could be real with just a thought. Bad memories instantly vanished, and were replaced with the joy of the present. There was nothing I would change about this world. People might question why I would want to be stuck in nothingness for eternity, but it was more than just nothing. To me, it was everthing I could never have. A world without pain and sorrow is truley worth more than the one I had been stuck on. But the only thing that hinted any bit of worry, and made me question my happiness, was the fact that I knew I was dead.

Once this thought occured, something changed. The outstretched meadows, filled with bright yellow specks sunk into the light below. The lime green grass was replaced with a opal pool of water, and the tree's perfect limbs grew twisted, as pine filled my nostrils. The warmth I was floating on changed its appearence into a shining coat of snow, spreading itself onto the land. Without warning, the sky grew dark, and I felt myself become more than nothing. The glow that I had shone into a much greater light, something that I could feel. I touched my bare feet to the snow, expecting it to be cold. Instead, it felt just like...nothing. Curious, I traced my hand over the surface, watching in shock as my hand disappeared below the surface. I pulled it back, surprised. I rushed to the closest pine, and pressed my palm against the bark. Instantly, my arm sunk into the tree, and appeared at the other side. It was different, the ability. But it didn't matter. I was invisible to the real world.

I felt the snow touch me in a way, but it didn't feel like...snow. It felt much heavier, pressing through my form. I glanced around, letting the light travel away from my soul, casting its ray far out into the blizzard. The light shone near a plank of wood, rotting not far from the shore of the water. I started to walk alonf the rim, but decided to try something. Without a doubt, I easily strode across the face of the blue pool, walking towards the dim spark. Within seconds, I reached the sign, and looked back. The lake stretched far out into the distance, the other end out of sight. It would have taken at least ten minutes to get even half way. But, I was in the twisted reality of death, so I took advantge of it, allowing myself to catch the next gust of snow, floating up into the air with the breeze. It carried me to where the light awaited, glowing against the wind. The letters had faded, the sign had been painted years ago. I traced the outline of what remained with my pointer finger, watching in awe as the letters became solid. I stood back, and read it.

Starks Pond.

Why was I at Starks Pond? This place didn't have much of a meaning to me, more or less having gone skating here almost daily. The sign faded back into it's normal coloring, the light pushing back into my chest. Seeing the snow fall this hard, the wind whistling against the leaves, made me wonder how cold it actually was. I tried to blow my breath, at least hoping to see a cloud appear, hoping that this was just a dream. There wasn't the slightest cloud, making me sigh. I felt myself. I could feel things, but they couldn't feel me. The one thing that made me upset, out of everything spectacular I could do, was the fact that I no longer existed. Forever gone from the eyes of my friends and family, but still on earth. My planet had gone, it wasn't making its presence the least bit known. So I was stuck. Stuck until I could figure out how to get back.

I walked along the dirt trail taking me to the main road, not even bothering to fly. The trail ended when the gravel stopped, but I couldn't tell due to the lack of feeling. I had been walking on the trail, not nervous about what hid in the dark. Because, I was oblivious to it, being nothing other than a walking light. My eyes caugth the distinct line signaling the end of the path, and I hopped onto the pavement. There were no lines on the road, none of the neighbors wanting to chip in the least bit to ensure saftey. I followed where I assumed the lines would be, dead center.

Occasionally a car would zoom by my side, not seeing the boy walking casually past. The first time I saw a car, I ignored it, but was startled by the honk, jumping to the other lane. The car they honked at swerved into the lane, hitting their brakes, crashing into the hood. I got off the ground, and just stared openly at the wreck. There was nothing I could do, and no one I could call, so, I continued on my way. I only stopped when I heard the frantic screams of the woman in the wreck. When I turned back, she was standing next to her car, glowing a bright white. She looked at me, reaching out an arm. I stood back, as she seemed to realize she was no longer inside the car, and looked at the drivers seat. I quickly spun back, rushing away as I heard her scream in horror at she saw her mangled corpse. Within the second, I was at least a mile from the wreck, no longer seeing her glow in the distance.

I watched my feet walk inches from the ground, each time a spark of light coming from where my foot had touched. It had interested me, not having anything better to do. My thoughts seemed to veer towards something new with every second, racing with random memories, that, I don't even remember. They became so real, that when I remembered a camping trip from when I was nothing but a baby, my head spun, and I plopped on a bed of moss in the deep woods. Rain was cascading down, but keeping a safe distance from my warmth. I looked around, confused at where I was, until something caught my eye. It was transparent, but I could vaugley see the outline of a tent- our tent. It was the memory, taking me to the place where it was created. There were no people here. Just the cold silence. Trying to think of a way to get out, my mind changed courses, and I was set on finding a way home. The breeze flew by, sending crumbling leaves into the air, and when my eyes opened, I was on my bed. My bed. Not in the hospital, not in the woods. I was home. I hopped down, surprised by the strange force keeping me from the floor. I let it carry me down the stairway, exploring the house that no longer was mine. Nothing was mine anymore. I felt the force tug and my pant's, the pant's I wore almost everyday, and pull me to the kitchen. I had barley found my way to the entrance, when I heard a familiar voice.

"Kyle?" I looked at the table, where my mother was sitting, drinking her coffee.

"Mom? Mom!" Releived out of my body she could see me, I sprang forward to hug her. Instead of a warm embrace, I fell past her and the chair, onto the floor.

"Yes, and what about him?" I turned around, so I was facing the bottom of the chair. She couldn't see me. I heard my dad's keys jingle, as he burst into sobs.

"Shelia, he's...he's gone." He whimpered, trying to reason with her. "And this time, he isn't coming back." I got up and stood so I was facing my mother, watching her calmly sip from her mug. "He's dead." At that word, she began to shake her head.

"He isn't dead, Gerald. He's just fine, in the hospital." She stated matter-of-factley. He glared, before continuing to cry.

"Shelia, he's your _son_ for god's sake!" He screamed, bursting towards the front door. Once the door slammed, I looked at her again, and saw a single tear slide down her face.

"He was not my son."

The rage, the hatred I felt towards this one person was undesribable. Suddenly, all the emotions that had been drained returned, and they made my innocent light burst into a blaze. The fire grew around my body, covering my in the growing flame. It grew bigger, and stronger, until all of the kitchen was ablaze with hate. When I felt a coldness for the first time in this life, I sent it over the flame, sparking it up to the ceiling. It grew across the house, until there was nothing but fire. And she just sat there, drinking her coffee. She couldnt see her house burning around her, because only my eyes could see the destruction. Only my eyes could see what a bitch she was- exempt for now. Now, it was just a fact. A tear slid down my cheek, and as soon as the drop of light managed to hit the floor, the fire disappeared in a flash. Everything was fine, unharmed. I wanted to leave, to forget about her. Be rid of her presense. And that's what I did.

I closed my eyes, and tried to remember. Anything would work, any place that would bring me away from _her. _The memories began to flash, sending random thoughts through my brain. They scrolled before my eyes like a wheel, deciding your fate. As they begin to slow, I began to feel a sense of dread. A feeling of worry, anger. Guilt. _'Why did you leave me, alone, and dying?' _I clench my teeth at his voice echoing through my head. _Not that memory. _Please. _'Why did you do this to me, Kahl? Why did you hurt me so-' _Cartman. Cartman! No, stop. Stop this torture. _'Why-' _I had to! I...wanted to. I'm sorry, if I could take it back I would. I would.

_'I did it because I hate you, Cartman! You're undoubtfully the most self centered, racist, predjudice piece of shit on the entire planet, and I hurt you because I couldnt let you hurt anyone else anymore!' _I let out a cry hearing my own words, burning a scar in my mind. I didn't mean it. Please. That's not what I meant-

_'You really are just a stupid Jew, arnt you?' _I know, what I did was stupid. I would take your place, be in your shoes, but I can't- _'Remember your bitch of a mother telling you when you were younger, that if someone teases you and makes fun of you, it means they like you?' _I remember. I get it. All this time...all you wanted was my attention. You got it. I'm sorry...so, so sorry...I didn't get it...I was stupid..._'Let go,'_ I cant. What I did to you is unforgivable. I deserve to be dead, not you... _'Let go of the guilt.' _The guilt I feel for you...I can never let that go.

It all sunk it against my will, letting my mind fight over the truth. "No...I'm...I'm sorry." I gave in to my own thoughts, mentally defeated. When my eyes pulled open, I felt a wave of relief that I was gone from the house. My mother. But it didn't last, because the memory brought me somewhere I didn't want to go. I didn't want to, but I needed to.

The hospital room gave you a sense of sorrow, but even more confusion. I reconized the vase containing the festive boquet, now slightly wilted and out of water. I looked around confused, not telling why I was brought here. A light formed on the bed, slowly moving around the room. The artificial glow meant the room would be otherwise dark, the lights out. Something pulled me towards the light, following it with an outstreched hand. It traveled out the door, and led me down the hallway, filled with people running the other direction. Their shouts were muffled by a mist that only I could sense, growing by the second. The ball of light pushed into my chest, filling me with a strength that lifted me from the ground. Once again, I let it carry me to the destination it wanted to be. When I was almost at the ceiling, I looked down at the mist covered doctors, now completly still. It was as if time had stopped, but it hadn't, just slowed. I was in the present, watching the doctors below m floating figure try to revive a patient. The defibrillator pads were held above his chest, about to send a volt of electricity through the frail body. My body. It was then that the guilt turned into something else. It still remained guilt, but it wasn't for Eric. It wasn't for my actions, or how this is how everything happend. The guilt was caused by me not being able to be with Eric when he saved me.

And with that, the pressence of anything below me dropped, and I fell to the cot where my lifeless body was sprawled across. Instead of sinking into the bed, I fell right into my corpse, sending the cloud of mist to the ceiling.

Everything was black. There was no feeling, no anything. I couldn't even sense myself. There was only the slightest feeling of shock coarsing through my emptiness. I expected it to leave, but it came back, much stronger than before. And with another shock, my emptiness filled with life, as I felt my forgien heart beat in my chest.

* * *

**A/N- Yay! I brought Kyle back to life! Woohoo! This is seriosly how I imagine it to be when you die, and I secretly love killing people in my stories so I can write about death...lol. Anyway, this whole chapter was based on Kyle's out of body experience. It was kinda sad when his mom didn't care that he died...what a bitch. I promise there will be more chapters after this, AND they'll have more Cartman...or like...his body. THANK YOU so much for reading! Thank you to all the people reveiwing! It makes my day when I get a review! Please reveiw...if you want. **


	5. Chapter 5

They took everything from me. My happiness, my comfort, my peace. It was ripped from my grasp, and thrown down the drain like it didn't matter. But it wasn't their fault. They were _supposed_ to bring me back, against whatever will I had. It was their job to save me from an eternal world of bliss, and put me back in my place here, where I had nothing. My family hates me, and my friends all fear me. I'm beginning to fear myself, for the reasons anyone would, having been through what I had. The doctors don't even seem to have any compassion towards me, returned from death, only to be hated for it. It's not like what I expected to happen. Everybody wishes I had just stayed in the mist, gradually brought to nothing but a faint memory. Slowly, I'm sinking into myself, rotting away in the hospital bed, wishing they had just let me stay that. Just a memory.

This wasn't what I had expected to happen. I thought everything would flow smooth, and I could just get my bittersweet revenge without any price. Revenge, that had turned it's back to me, and spat on my deed. I let myself take the blame, for it was mine to take, and there was nothing to hide. But there was. I hid it until the point came for me to stare death in the face, and admit my pity. I let myself take the heat, and allowed it to take me wherever fate had decided I was needed. Fate was my guide, until it decided to screw me over. My light, my hope for comfort, had abandoned me, leaving me once again at the starting point. This was just me, paying for what I had done. I accept it, but wish the debt would be paid off sooner. I had been allowed a gateway in time, sealing off my life and bringing me to what I craved- to end my pain. The remedy I was offered, it somehow backfired, and brought me back to what disgusted me.

I told myself I didn't want to come back to life. Somewhere along death's timeline, I had actually _convinced_ myself I wanted to stay away from the troubles that came with having mortality. But I got lost in my own troubles, and had came to realization that I needed to live. I needed to be there for Eric. And, somehow, the creases straitened themselves out, and I got my unclear desire. That was all part of fates fucked up plan, I guess. To screw me over, and then make it seem as if were meant to be. Even though I was lost, not having any way out anymore, fate kept me grounded. It kept me whole, waiting for it's next move in the game of reality.

* * *

And here I lay, not really sure why, in the dry hospital bed that I hated so. Consciousness had caught up to me, and eventually left me so drained, all I could do was close my eyes, and wait for sleep. Although I was aware of the figures in the room, touching me in places I couldn't seem to recognize, I just lay there. They kept me alive, re-attaching the dozens of wires into my pale skin. The mask already covering my mouth smelt like plastic and stale saline. I was practically naked, my thin clothing being removed to make sure everything vital was fine. My chest, two rectangle cherry marks just below my collarbone, was still raw from the electricity sent into my corpse forcing my heart to beat once again. I hated the feeling of being exposed, all my cuts and stitches open to see. But right now, I was to physically exhausted to care.

Their gloved fingers traveled across my skin, gently poking each spot they could manage. They prodded anxiously trying to find an imperfection for them to correct, but when they eventually found nothing, all hands slid from my body. "He's got some minor bruising in the chest region, but other than that he seems to be okay." I mentally flipped off whoever was speaking, because in all truth, I was far from okay. A blanket was pulled just over my stomach, my cast snagging the fabric. Just as the doctors surrounded me began to depart, the double door's swung open, my father flying in. He burst into tears when he saw me, unmoving on the cot. I wanted to tell him I was okay, but my mouth wouldn't move, and my eyes could only open so much before the lights burnt them shut. He ran over to my bed, only managing to glide his hand across my cold cheek before doctors pulled him away by his arms.

"No! Let me see him! Let me see my son!" He bawled, clawing at the prison that brought his outside the room. I could hear him crying in the hall, but that doctors didn't manage to get him further that past the door before I caught a glance of him falling to his knees in sobs before the doors swung shut. The small windows on the white walls gave a slight view of the hallway, now located further down the ICU. I watched through the slivers as some nurses came to escort him out. When I was sure he was okay, standing on his own two feet, I closed my eyes. Outside my room sounded like hell, voices panicked. One voice stood out more than any though, shaky and on the verge of tears. I peeled back one lid to see the raven haired boy in tears, standing next to my heavily guarded father. He looked into the window, into my room, where I lay, wanting more than ever to tell him I was okay. I was fine, just tired. One glance at my deathly figure sent him into fits of hysteria, pounding on the glass with his red gloves, and eventually sliding to the floor. My father had been dragged off to who knows where, and the only person left was Stan, who thought I was dead.

They hadn't told them. Told them that I was fine, just not quite conscious of my surroundings. They didn't even bother to assure them that I was in fact, quite alive. Instead, no one considered comforting the sobbing parent, and the fourteen year old boy pressed to the face of the glass, staring at the person who they thought was dead.

I saw the nurse next to Stan lean over and whisper something, and motion towards the door. It took him time to get up, and follow her to where the door pushed open, and she casually waltzed in. She brought a small plastic chair up to my side, and nodded towards the seat. Stan practically ran to my side, sending his nails into my arm. I winched at the sudden pressure, but sunk back and enjoyed the fact that I could even feel anything. Once again, he slid to the floor with my arm still encased tightly in his hands. Seeing that seating was already found on the floor, the chair was stacked back against the others, and the nurse snuck from the room.

We were left alone in the dark, as I was forced to listen to his miserable sobs. If my eyes had been open, I'm sure noticeable streams of tears were flooding down his face. I felt so useless, not able to comfort him. I couldn't even move, my own breaths tiring me out. Slowly his sobs became more quiet, and I started to become concerned from the lack of the familiar tone that made put me at ease. I was startled by the pair of lips of my forehead, softly pressing against a long line of stitches. "I'm so sorry I wasn't there for you. I'm…so…sorry." He whispered, pulling my shoulders into a light embrace. His touch was so gentle, I almost didn't realize when I left his arms. Stan began to trace the scars on my hand, before taking it in his own. Giving it a tight squeeze, his swallowed an oncoming sob, and laid his head on the pillow next to mine. I gathered every strength in my weak body to give some sign that I was here with him. My breathing was so faint, it was hardly noticeable, so I rubbed one of my fingers against his wrist, setting the hairs on his arm stand up. He tugged on my arm, before pulling from the pillow. "Kyle…" He sounded confused, and gave my hand another squeeze. I returned the gesture, but much weaker, making him start to cry. "Kyle? Kyle…thank god." Stan wrapped his arms around me once again, burying his face against my shoulder. I imagined a smile, and leant my head on his, nuzzling his hair.

The door squeaked open, and I heard frantic footsteps patter against the tile, pushing Stan out of the way. His warmth was replaced with the smell of soap, and two hands cupped my face. I brought my eyes open to stare into my father's, full of tears. "Dad," I squeaked, my voice cracked and faint. A huge smile lit up his face, as Stan came to my other side, grabbing my hand, and intertwining our fingers. He never stopped crying, and soon small tears began to grow on my own lashes.

* * *

They never left my side. Not once did they leave the hospital, only my father once to return with Ike, who was more than happy to see me. He sat on my bed with me, his fingers running up and down the multiple wires attached to the big machines. "What are these things for, Kyle?" Ike asked, tapping on the case covering my finger. I frowned at the question, and my dad started to explain, when I caught up.

"These wires are making sure I'm okay," I half lied, making sure I didn't scare him. He tapped a small finger to his chin, before pushing his nose against mine.

"Why wouldn't you be okay? What's wrong?" My dad refuses to let me answer, and came and sat at the foot of the bed, petting Ike's hair.

"He just need's them to feel better, that's all." Dad assured. I nodded, but quickly Ike lost interest and turned to something else far less boring, jumping from the bed. Dad's eyes followed Ike run towards the T.V. remote, and flick though the channels. He brought his gaze back to me, and weakly smiled. "_Are_ you feeling better?"

"Yeah, I-I feel fine, I'm just a little shaken I guess." I stuttered, wiping away a fiery curl from my vision. He nodded slowly, pouting his lips. "Dad, is everything alright?" He shakes his grogginess away, and nods.

"Yes, everything's fine Kyle." He grunts, moving from the bed. I can tell he's lying by the tone of worry tainted in his voice. I let it slide, and turn my attention to the now single door open, and smile as Stan walks in with a turkey sandwich in his hands. My smile quickly drops as he comes to the bed, a look of terror stripped across his face. "Stan?" He furrows his brow, and parts his lips to speak, when the door re-opens. Stan turns pale, and drops his head.

"They're here to talk to you, Ky." He states, before turning to Ike and taking his hand. "Let's go down to the food court, okay?" Ike shakes his head, causing Stan to start tapping his foot. "They have T.V. and ice cream?" He suggests, and with that, Ike pushes past the two policemen in the doorway. Stan never looks up, and he races after him. Dad sighs heavily, patting my leg.

"I'll be in the hall if you need anything Kyle." He says blankly, before following the other boys out the door.

I'm left staring at two police twice the size of my own father, guns at their side, badges glistening in the faint lighting. I gulp, as an older man makes his way to my bedside, holding out a hand. Taking it nervously, he gives it a subtle shake, and introduces himself. "My name is Officer Gables, and this is Officer Harrison." He states, motioning to the woman by the door. I nod, and wait for further instruction. "We've come to discuss some of the legal factors, and what you could be facing." I sit motionless, not knowing what to do.

"Legal factors?" I question, my voice beginning to crack.

"As in all the charges held against you, and what you could be prosecuted for." The woman pipes in, making her way to stand unevenly next to her partner. "For right now, we just want to bring these things to your attention."

"Bring what to my attention?" I ask, feeling faint. "Wait…for now?"

"Yes, for the time being, we mainly wanted to discuss the charges you might face." She pulls a pink packet from her pocket, and begins to unfold it. "First off, let's just get some things strait. Hear your point of view. Some of these things can't be implied if your case changes." She coos, clearing her throat. "We are to understand you brought a Mr. Eric Cartman into a coma, breaking six ribs, fracturing his skull, and breaking one arm and…both legs." The woman stopped, and held her breath. "And he is currently in critical condition in ICU." She shakes her head, quickly handing the packet off the older man. "I…I'm going to go get a drink." She stutters, before exiting the room. He scratches his head, covered in dark gray hair, searching for the spot left on.

"You brought this man into a coma, is that false?" He asks, flipping through the pages. I feel tears swell around my eyes.

"I…I didn't know it was that bad." I whimper.

"I'll take that as a yes. And you did conduct said damage to your knowledge?" I glare at him, tears making their presence visible.

"I t-think so. I…yes. Yes sir, I did." I sigh, tearing our gaze apart.

"Alright. When and _if_ Mr. Cartman wakes from his coma, multiple charges can be pressed against you from his family, and him himself. Assault charges will be automatically brought upon you, but it is his and his families choice to press any _further_ charges." The policeman states robotically. "But," He continues. "Until the time when he is awake, you will be under police surveillance, and shall not be permitted to leave unaccompanied without permission." I nod sadly, and look back up at him.

"What happens if he doesn't wake up?" He isn't surprised by my question, and calmly begins to organize his few papers. "What if…what if he dies." I shudder on the last word, and close my eyes to try to drain the feeling of guilt.

"That's what we mainly wanted to bring to your attention," He sets down the stack of useless paperwork, and glides a chair across the floor so he is seated promptly in front of me. "If Mr. Cartman does _not_ revive from his coma, you will be facing a prison sentence, and most probably murder charges. If you are lucky enough to be sent to the state penitentiary, you would be against a minimum of ten years."

If he dies, by none other than my hands, I'll be classified as a murder. I'll be forever responsible for spilling his blood, and taking his life. It he dies, there's no doubt I'll go to prison. Surprisingly, that's not what concerns me. It's the fact that I'll lose him, and I cant get him back. I always took his friendship for granted, and always considered us to be no less than close enemies. I would never openly agree that I was his friend, but I always liked to assume I was, just knowing there was someone to have my back. He always had my back, but I never had his. There was never a time when he would so much as harm a fly, even though he threatened he would. I had no reason to hurt him, but I did anyway. I did worse than hurt him, and now I might lose him.

"Mr. Broflowski, that'll be all. There will be someone to get the full story later this week. Thank you for your time, and I hope this all works out for you." He said courteously, before making his way to find his partner.

As I had earlier, I might have wanted to die. I might have wanted to hide away in my fantasy that cost me my own life just to seek a comfort from my pain. But right now, I didn't. I just wanted one thing more than anything, the only thing that could bring me the slightest bit of comfort. I wanted to see Eric's muddy eyes peel open, to awaken to the world that is now. The only thing I asked for, was for him to be alright. And that's all I wanted.

Some people call it destiny, and some might call it fate. Whatever it is, it brought me to where I am now. It may not be the best place ever, and quite frankly, it's not. Where I stand in life isn't what I desired, its what I dread. You may think you crave something, but it turns out not working in your favor, and it ends up shitting in your face. I've died, and been back. That doesn't make me anything more in the eyes of others, but it has given me something that can't fade, or even disappear. It's called hope. The one thing that does, no matter what theory, give you a burning passion that is your comfort. It keeps you going, when everything and everyone seems to go against you. I have hope. Not that things will go back to the way they were, or that everything will be fine, because that's next to impossible. I have hope, that one day, Eric will wake up. It may be weeks, months, even years before I can cry tears of joy, or it might just be never. But I'll wait for him. I'll wait for my fate.

**A/N~ Oh my god, that last part made me cry so hard. I'm sorry for making this chapter so depressing, but the next couple of chapters should be a little lighter. I just want to thank all the people who are reading, you are the reason I write! I'd really appreciate reviews, the next chapter should be up by Monday! ~M **


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N~ I apologize for my un-excused absence, I've just been overly brain-dead on this story...That was a horrible choice of words, sorry! Anyway, I'm trying to figure out a way to _end_ this whole Kyle being a drag about him putting Cartman in a coma...but I _can't!_ I just feel like this would be something Kyle could never forgive himself for, that's why he reminds himself, almost constantly, in EVERY damn chapter that he sucks. Hah. God, I seriously think Stan would have been more of a bitch to him than I made him out to be though, since he always falls victim to peer pressure. I hate Stan. It sounds like Spam. Hah. Yeah. But it makes me feel so bad when I write the things Shelia does to torture her son for punishment. Its cruel! Even though I'm starting to bore of this whole Kyle being a pussy drag, I'll finish the story. _EVEN IF I MUST!_ Thanks for reading, and please review! If you don't, Carman might just die...don't let him die, guys! ~Enjoy more of Kyle's drama!**

Finally, the day I had been drooling over came without warning. The day when I was taken from the presence of my fading guilt. There wasn't much to talk about on that day, and know that I think about it, nobody spoke as I was wheeled from the hospital, stitches healed and bruises faded. For the first time in weeks, I remember feeling the crisp winter breeze flow past my face, instead of the uncomfortably cold air conditioner the hospital insisted on keeping on. The winds brought the harsh snowfall that had fallen every night I was locked in my room sprinkling across my nose, the white sparks melting with contact to my skin.

The snow was light, dropping just enough powder to conceal the asphalt, shading it a sparkling white. I kept my hands in my lap, fingers intertwined, watching the wheels on my chair make lines through the snow. It squeaked with every twist and turn, marking a visible path from the decent from the place I had begun to dread. I guess now that I was able to leave, it brought me some comfort. But I knew I would come back, not necessarily against my will, just not sure I was welcome. It made me wonder how often I would choose to come, not that it would make any difference if I did. Even if I plunged into his room, and spilled my heart out, sobbing in his stilled arms, he wouldn't notice. He wouldn't care.

But I knew I would, even if there was no memory of my presence. If he awoke from his never-ending nightmare, I would be by his side. I knew he would be against it, but that was okay. I could watch from the shadows, as he became himself once again. And until then, I'll tell myself that he would appreciate if I came, even if deep within, I knew he wouldn't.

The chair came to a halt, and my father propped open the passenger door while I pulled my weak body from the chair. The nurse held his arms out to ensure I didn't fall, and when I had successfully plopped down on the leather seat, he slowly shut the door. He nodded towards me, so I weakly smiled. Giving a slight grin back, he turned to my father, talking to a police woman. She ripped the cap from her head, exposing her bright orange hair. She took both of her specters hands, giving them a firm shake, before retreating to her cruiser. I eyed as my father hoisted himself into the car, and sat in silence. He kept his gaze at the steering wheel, not uttering a word, before sending the key into the ignition.

And this is how it went for him for the past month. He sat been shooed from the house, and had the door slammed on his face by his own wife. I of course hadn't witnessed it, but the stories of sadness that were told to me everyday, each visit bringing more dread, brought news of life outside my little white room. One day, just a little over a week ago, he told me that him and my mother were getting a divorce. What am I even saying, she's not my mom. I had never even looked at her with so much on ounce of respect, but soon it turned into nothing but hate. She knew I died, and couldn't even care less. When the news struck her that I had lived, and was under critical condition, I imagine she only shrugged. This person I was forced to look up to every day of my life, was nothing close to a motherly figure to me. She was a person I truly despised.

My stomach growled, and my hands instantly went to muffle the sound. Dad peered at me, taking his eyes off the road for a mere second before turning into Burger King. I closed my eyes, and waited for the line to move.

Hunger had become inedible, having only eaten mainly Jell-O since I arrived. I had lost weight, more than I wanted to, and was left stick thin. When the doctors forced me to strip off my hospital gown and bathe, I tore my eyes from the mirrors, not wanting to see my naked body. The one time I recall looking into the glass, I started to cry. I was broken. Bones were poking at my skin, I had dark bags under my eyes, and looked like the walking dead. This was true, in a way I guess. It didn't help, knowing I would return to my normal self in a few months, knowing that that was how much longer Eric would wait to start his recovery. If he even had one.

"Kyle?" I glanced at my dad, who had driven the car to the window.

"Hmm?" I mumble, too tired to talk.

"What do you want to eat?" I look over the menu, and see the most disgusting food in the world. I would never dream of putting that garbage in my mouth, but right now, it looked more than appetizing. "Kyle?" I bring my eyes from the menu, and bite my lip.

"I...I want everything." He manages a lighthearted chuckle, before turning to the microphone. I don't hear what he orders, but when the car jots forward, I open my eyes to see a giant bag in my lap. Concerned he actually took me seriously, I turn to him. He doesn't look away from the road, and sighs.

"Eat your dinner, Kyle." I obey, and open the fast food bag, inhaling deeply. I pull out one of the three wrapped burgers, and fold back the paper, hungrily taking a bite. My father grabs the bag from my lap, and takes out a small container of fries. Again, he sighs at his poor food choice, but shovels it in his mouth anyway. I chewed the burger quietly, an occasional whimper from the new stitches under my jaw.

The car pulled up to an unfamiliar building that I only recognized from when dad had brought me a photo of his new apartment. Even in the darkened light of the evening, the bright red paint of the building stuck out against the dark blue sky. My dad made his way from the car, leaving the now empty bag in his seat. I brought my eyes down as he came across to open my door with a smile. He shouldn't smile. There was nothing to be happy about.

I've heard people tell their kids when a divorce made its way into their life that it was just a difference between the parents, and the kids had nothing to do with it, and were still loved very much. That's just the thing about divorce. I caused it, and no one denies it was my fault. I feel the heat of it all, and I know that now, my mother hates me more than anything.

Dad clears his throat when my lids begin to fall, keeping me awake. I tilt my head just enough so I'm still comfortably against the seat. "Come on Kyle, there's a bed upstairs for you." He says warmly, helping me down. I truly didn't _need_ help, but it felt nice, having human contact other than doctors cold, probing hands. I allowed myself to be lifted from my seat, and tried to smile when my toes hit the ground. I could only bare to stand for a second, before my legs went numb and I toppled over onto the cement driveway. Nothing stopped me from braking down into quiet sobs, laying against the cold ground. My hands were bloody, and my head stung, but I wasn't crying because of any pain. I was sobbing for once, because I was tired.

I felt my body lifted from the cement with a grunt, and continued to cry against my dad's shoulder. He ran his thin fingers through my curls not trying to comfort me, but for his own sake. "It'll be okay, Kyle," He hushed, bringing the keys against the lock, and pushing open the pearly white door. "I promise." For once, I believed that promise.

Since I weighed practically nothing, he could easily sling me over his shoulder, and carry me up the stairs. I was carried past a small bathroom, and another bedroom before coming to another small room. When the door was brought open, I almost started to cry at the sight of its fulness. None of my toys, games, or clothes were here. I knew why.

She had burned them. With my clothes burnt to a satisfactory ash, she threw everything that had some attachment to me in the dumpster, and proceeded by sending me a letter that said I was not welcome in the Broflowski household. My father had only brought worse news when he offered to go to the store and pick me up some clean clothes. I questioned him, and he said my things at home were gone. Every last thing I owned and cared about, brought to flames.

This was my new home now. A small apartment on the outskirts of town, far away from my old life that I wanted to race back to without hesitation. But I couldn't. I didn't even know if my friends would be there when I came calling. And I deserved it. Inside, even if I knew I had this whole mess coming, it hurt. More than anyone could ever imagine.

I sat down on the full mattress, covered by a dark blue comforter. A light smile crossed my face when I saw my favorite green hat resting on one of the pillows covered in a white pillowcase. I snatched it and pulled it on, bringing it over my brow and past the many scars on my forehead. Dad laughed at the sudden action, and sat on the bed, wrapping an arm around my shoulders. He pulled me tight, as more tears began to fall. "Don't cry; there's nothing to be sad about right now. Just go to sleep." He said sweetly. I sniffed. "Kyle, in the end, fate always has a plan. It may not be the best plan," He paused to lay his chin against the top of my head. "But, somehow, it always works out." I nodded, and was quickly put beneath the covers. "It really will." Dad smiled down at me, and kissed my nose before leaving me alone.

"Dad?" I shout, suddenly panicked. He re-appears at the door, peeking his head in. "So things...they'll get better, no matter what? Right?" He bites his lip, and pulls out a little further unsure of an answer. "Dad-"

"Kyle, whatever happens happens. And no matter what, I'll stand by your side." He whispers, shutting the door. I'm left, once again, in total darkness.

I close my eyes, and try to imagine that I'm back home. Not here, but in the house I _used_ to call a home. I imagine I'm left alone to the darkness of _my_ room, and it isn't bad, because I have everything that I love in that small space. Everything is okay- I'm okay, nothing broken, nothing that needs to heal. I'm just left to think about the thoughts of the day, having not a worry on my mind. It's peaceful in my room, and the only sound is the crickets outside the window, singing their nightly song. I'm safe, and nothing is wrong. Nothing, exempt the fact that when I open my eyes, the bed that feels like mine isn't, and Eric is still in a coma.

Nothing's okay. But when I close my eyes again, trying to avoid anything that would ruin my sleep, it all fades. When I dream, it's nothing unusual just a normal day. But it's amazing, and I want to hold onto it forever. Keep it present, keep it real. Sadly, it's only real when I sleep, when I dream. And that's all I want- normal. But that's only what it can ever be. Just a dream.

**A/N~ Really sorry that was so short! But it was only meant to be a filler for when he came home...so yeah. I promise the next one will be longer! R&R PLEASE! Love you guys! ~M**


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N~ Oh god...I must say this is every freaking chapter...I'M SORRY FOR NOT UPDATING IN FOREVER! I'm just...done with this story. I mean, I honestly think its run it's sad course, and it's time to end. So this will be the next to last chapter than...because I'm dried out of all my awesome ideas I had planned for this. Eh...I've been stalling on writing this. I'm stalling right now, actually, because I wasn't going to HAVE an authors note. Hmm.**

**~Okay, enjoy luvies! Reviews are appreiciated~**

* * *

My eyes flutter awake, bringing rays of golden sunshine washing past my lids. I rub my eyes sleepily, and yawn, tasting the bitter air of the freshly painted room. I wiggle free of the thick navy blue comforter encasing my body and stretch, grabbing hold of the headboard with my one good hand. My shoulders crack, so I let my arm fall to the mattress once more. Instead of feeling the soft, flannel fabric, my hand touches a cold, lifeless arm. I tense at the contact, and slowly bring my eyes to see the deathly figure in my mattress, now transformed into a thin hospital bed. A faint buzzing makes its way to my ears, until I spot the heart monitor across the figure, nothing but a straight line. I spring upwards, and fly from my bed, racing towards the door. When I reach for the handle, it melts at my touch. Looking back at the bed, I see the ghostly figure rising, bloody and covered in stitches. Slowly, the blank face twists into that of Eric's, his eyes glued shut. His heart monitor loudens, the endless beep echoing through the dark hospital room. I scream, and turn back to the door, dripping from the top with blood. The handle had returned to it's place, but when my fingers touch the metal, a pain runs through my body. The invisible knives shred my insides, and slowly rip through my skin, revealing the bloody blades. I try to bring my fingers to the reddened surface, but something keeps me stiff, unmoving. As the blades show more of themselves, a familiar rusty taste makes presence in my mouth, and soon begins to flood over my lips. The knives twist once more, clouding my vision with red, bloody tears falling down my cheeks. Just as the blades fall to the ground, giving me a second of relief, another pain explodes over my shoulder. It's not sharp, but more of a burning sensation. Frozen in place, not able to turn and see the cause, I cry more bloody tears. My breath is suddenly whisked away as I'm held in the air by nothing but that fiery touch. I strain to get air, and soon it becomes unbearable, my lungs filling with fire. As I close my eyes in defeat, the heat courses once more through my body just long enough for me to be spun around, and scream. Eric's glazed over eyes send more heat through my own eyes, as he opens his stitched lips to barely a crack. "Kyle..." His voice is harsh, and makes my ears ring from pain. "Kyle..." More bloody tears falling past my cheeks and onto the ground. "Kyle..." The pain becomes unbearable, so I scream his name, forcing my own out of my thoughts~

* * *

"Kyle!" I sat up, drenched in sweat. "Dude, are you okay?" Stan sets a hand on my shoudler, handing me a glass of orange juice. I stare at him, tears streaking down my face. Anxiously, I reach to touch the salty liquid, and find that it's clear. I glance back up at him, and break into helpless sobs. "Kyle, chill. It's just me." He wraps me in his arms, taking the glass and setting it on the nightstand. I bury my face into his red racer shirt, sniffling against the rough fabric. When a rustic taste floods my mouth, my eyes snap open at the realization that I bit my tongue, and I reach for the juice. I take an eager sip from the glass, and end up spilling most of the contents on my shirt. Stan furrows his brow and removes the glass from my hand, replacing it with a cloth. I stare at my hands curled tightly in fists, shaking to an extent I didn't know possible. "Dude, you need to chill." He says, grabbing my shoulders. "What's wrong?" He brings my back to the comfort of his chest, allowing me to finish the remains of orange juice.

"I drempt about him again, dude. I-it's like he's always _here_..._watching_ me." I stutter, taking a fistful of his shirt. "A-and he won't _leave." _

"Well, maybe-" Just as he starts, there's a knock at my already open door.

"Good morning Kyle," My dad coos, taking a sip of his coffee. "It look's like Stanley found his way, than." He nods curiously to Stan, and retreats downstairs, quietly humming to himself. Stan turns back to me, and tries to smile.

"I'm sorry, dude." He mumbles, pulling the covers over his own legs.

"About what?" I question, nudging his shoulder. "You didn't do anything wrong." He bites his lip, slowly shaking his head.

"I hated you." I turn to face him, glaring. "I hated you for hurting him. I...I thought he was really gone, y'know? I just...couldn't bare knowing my best friend- _only _best friend hurt him like that." Slowly my glare softened to a look of guilt, which Stan caught on to. "But it wasn't your fault, even if you think it was. I mean, it _was _your fault, but-"

"Where are you going with this, Stan?" I hiss through clenched teeth. He laughs nervously, and scratches his head.

"_But_ you had a reason to. We all know you did it just because he was being an ass, and we all stand behind you for it." He assures, pulling me closer when he sees my frown return.

"I still hurt him. I put him in a coma, Stan. He might _die _because I was stupid, he might _die_, and I could never live knowing that I-"

"Kyle, look. He's getting better, dude. He really is. The doctor's are all pretty sure he'll be fine," Stan smiles, giving a playful tug on one of my curls. I sigh.

"_Pretty sure." _I mutter, closing my eyes. "They're _pretty sure _what?" Stan tightens his grip on my shoulders, keeping my body wrapped in his warmth.

"They're pretty sure that he'll make it, Kyle! Don't you get it? That means he won't die-"

"But he could still be in a coma that I put him in for the rest of his life." Stan is at a loss for words, until he shoots off the bed, dragging the blankets with him.

"Well until then, we're gonna go see him everyday. So get outta bed, 'cause the sun is shining, and todays a beautiful day," He chirps happily, pulling me from the comfort of bed. "Now wipe away that frown, and let's skip off to town-"

"You mean the ICU of the hospital?" I ask bitterly. He shrugs.

"We can bring flowers," Stan suggests, shooting me a look of annoyance. "Or whatever. Stop being so down, dude. It's really affecting my buzz-"

"Your _buzz?" _He nods joyfully, and whisks a metal flask from his back pocket. Waving it teasingly in front of my grasp, he quickly unhooks the top and takes a chug.

"That place really gets me down, dude. Maybe you should have some-"

"I dont drink." I say, shaking my head. Once more, he shrugs, and brings the metal up to his lips. "But...could I just...?" Stan chuckles darkly and hands me the already almost empty flask. "What..."

"It's a mix of cherry vodka and chocolate brandy, so it's good. Don't drink it all-" By the time he finished, I had already downed the delicious drink. It burned my throat for only mere seconds before I was overcome with warmth. Stan smirked when a goofy grin crossed my face. "Good shit, huh?" I nod, and take his arm.

"Let's go see Eric," I sing, tugging him down the skinny stairs. "Hey, do you have anymore of that-" I stop when I see a policeman parked at the bottom off the staircase. "Uhm...hello?" The cop nods, and motions for me to follow. Stan gives me a slight push when I don't move, and I practically topple down the remaining steps.

"Good morning, Kyle." The man says, looking down at my crumpled figure. "May I have a quick word with you? Then you may go on your way." I nod quickly, not as if I had much choice, and follow the officer outside, where he motions for me to sit on one of the four steps. I sit wordlessly, and watch as the man follows, his joints creaking.

"So uhm...what did you need?" I whisper, trying not to be rude.

"Liane Cartman called the station this morning, said she wanted us to talk to you," I pale at his words, knowing it can't be good. Seeing me reaction, he pats my back. "She wanted us to ask if you could go and maybe visit Mr. Cartman down at the hospital, knowing how much her son liked you." I stare at him in shock, my stomach dropping to my feet.

"We were actually just going to see him, sir." I murmer, trying to become fascinated with my foggy breath lingering in the air. He smiles.

"Good. Well, since you were already, may I offer you a ride?" He asks politely, raising a brow.

"Can Stan come too?" I squeak hoarsely, clearing my throat.

"Of course." With one final nod, he gets up, and I do the same. "I'll be in the car when you boys are ready." I tug on the handle, but am stopped by a burning sensation on my shoulder. Horrified, I spin around only to see the officer. "Ms. Cartman also would like me to assure you she won't be pressing serious charges, so you might like to...thank her." Getting his message, I pull myself inside, only to bump into Stan whos already at the door.

"What'd he say?" He hisses, making his voice almost inaudible.

"Nothing, dude. He's just giving us a ride, that's all." Stan makes an "O" shape with his mouth, and follows me back outside.

We pull up to the hospital in silence, and once we thank the officer for the ride, the cruiser pulls away into the snowy mist. Stan looks at me, unsure. When I give him a light smile, he returns the gesture, and we walk quietly through the sliding doors. I take a seat in a chair, as Stan makes his way to the crowded front desk. "Cartman?" I hear him ask quickly, tapping his fingers along the granite countertop.

"Are you family?" The receptionist asks coldly, taking a look at Stan.

"W-well no, but-"

"If you're not family, than I'm going to have to dismiss you. Mr. Cartman is not taking guests right now-"

"He's with me, Debby." Her voice is strained and harsh, but still had the subtle silkiness that had always been. "And so is he," Her thin finger points at me, putting me under some sort of trance. I instantly stand up, removing myself from the wooden rocking chair. I walk slowly towards her, keeping my gaze on my sneakers. When her flowy purple skirt stops my path, I'm forced to look up into her sorrowful eyes. "Hello, Kyle." She looms sadly. I look back at my shoes.

"Ms. Cartman," I say, not able to even make out a proper greeting. She eyes me, and nods.

"Well, come with me boys." Liane says, walking us down the familiar hallway. I trail behind, looking at each door, hoping to see something that could make the tears not come. Stan waits for me to catch up, and links our arms together.

"It'll be okay, dude. Just chill out." He whispers,squeezing my free hand. Liane suddenly comes to a halt, turning slowly to face one of the doors. We arn't even close to the ICU, let alone his old room. She takes a large breath, closing her eyes and forcing an overly fake smile on her face, and pushes the door open. Stan follows, and shortly after, I walk in too.

It was just like my nightmare, only better. There was no blood, and the stitches were fading, most already gone. His heart monitor was rising and falling, nowhere near strait. Hair still ruffled, eyes still closed. But it was getting better. Much better.

A lump forms in my throat, and before I know it, I'm in joyful tears. Not really joyful, but grateful. The sobs are almost laughs of happiness, but the tears are still tears, and a pair of arms wrap around me. Thinking it's Stan, I collapse to the floor, pulling the body with me. I cry into the warmth, and when I look up, I choke on my sobs. Liane is holding me tightly to her chest, letting my cries be burried in her shirt, as her own silent tears fall. I trace her gaze up to the bed, where Eric lay peacefully. His eyes arn't glued shut with pain, merely fluttering with each breath he takes. Each breath he takes _on his own._ "He really _is_ getting better, hun." Liane soothes, petting my matted hair. "The doctor's say each day he's becoming more conscious, and should wake up sometime soon." By now, her tears arn't quiet. "He's going to be okay, he really is."

I smile for the first time in months, I actually, genuinely smile. It's not fake, or forced either. It's real. And I'm crying for what seems like the _millionth _time in these last few months, but it's out of sheer happiness, knowing that my guilt, the one thing that will always remain, can also have something to even out the pain. Relief.

"Hey, Liane?" Liane lifts her chin off the top of my head to look over at Stan, leaning awkwardly against the bed.

"Yes sweetie, what is it?" She asks worried, rising from her spot on the floor.

"Do you think Kyle...could have a minute alone with him?" He questions nervously. Liane holds her breath, gulping, not wanting to leave us alone. "I...I could stay with him, if you want." Stan adds, rubbing his neck. She brings her puffy eyes to look at me, and smiles lightly.

"Kyle can have a minute, certainly," Liane coos, turning back to Stan. "And I don't think it's nessicary to stay unless he wants you to." My eyes widen, as I quickly stumble up.

"T-thank you, Ms. Cartman-"

"Of course. I'm sure my little Eric would be glad you came to visit him." She says merrily, making her way from the room. "I'll be in the cafeteria if you need me, boys." Stan nudges my leg encased in a purple cast, sliding it towards the bed.

"Go on, dude. I'll be waiting in the lobby when you're done, okay?" Stan nods, and heads towards the door. I reach out and grab his hand before he leaves, tugging him back.

"Don't you want to-"

"I've been talking to him for the past month, Kyle. I'm sure he doesn't want to here more about how shitty things are without him from me." He jokes with a wave, closing the door behind him. I slowly turn to the bed, and take a seat in the chair that had been previously set up for Liane to use. I reach out my hand, and trace every detail on Eric's healing face, wanting to capture the image in my mind. Bringing my gliding fingers down his arm, I cup his boney hand in my own, and intertwine our fingers.

"Hey, Eric," I mumble, laying my head against the sheet near his shoulder. I wait for a reply out of habit, and continue. "I don't know why I'm here. Well, I guess I know why, but I'm still trying to figure it out, really. I think maybe it's the guilt that's been eating me alive over the past month, starving me away, forcing me to open my eyes to see the truth. I see what I did to you, and I wish with every fiber of my body I could take it back- it all back, but I can't. And I'm sorry. The guilt I've been feeling, and the pain I still feel, I don't ever think it'll leave. I'm sure you'd laugh at that, and say I deserve it. The truth is, I do-" I stop when my ears deceive me of a snicker, but I bring my eyes up anyway, and he's still sleeping. "I deserve everything I feel, even if everybody says it wasn't my fault. It was my fault. The reason you ended up like this is all my fault, and the reason I'm probably going to jail is my fault too. I'm weak, as you've always told me. I'm powerless, as you've made so clear. I'm...hurting, because of you. You told me I was selfish. You were right. How could I be hurting, and blaming you for my pain when I'm to blame for your condition. It is selfish, but I can't help it. You made me realize all of these things, Eric, when you wern't even with me. That proves how powerful you are. How strong, intelligent,_ amazing_ you are," I feel my hand twitch, though I'm not aware of it. Once again, my mind was toying with me. "I know you can't hear me, and when you wake up, I know you'll hate me, but..." I wipe a tear against his arm, sniffing. "Just be okay. Not for me, but for everybody else. They deserve you. Please wake up, and just be okay-" I bite my lip, and find comfort against Eric's thin robe, sobbing against his shoulder. "_I don't wish you were dead."_

_Stupid Jew. _"I know, I am. I was stupid..." _Stupid, stupid Jew. "_Please...just be alright..."

"Stupid Jew." His words scar my mind, as I sob helplessly into his shirt. The memories fog my vision, and plug my ears with his painful words. "I hate you, Kahl." My hand jumps at the sudden movement underneath, but I block it out. _Why is this so painful? The crude games my mind played on me weren't worth even the slightest bit of hope._ There's no point, but I drag my eyes up to stare at his lifeless face, lids sealed closed. But their not. Instead, his face is filled with a warmth, and his chocolaty brown eyes are half lidded life pooled with life, staring down at me. Tears continue rolling down my cheeks, as he cocks his head and smirks. "You really are a stupid Jew, aren't you?"


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N~ Wow, I hope you didn't think I just left you hanging, guys, I'm just...**_**I'm sorry**_**. And I really wish I had a better excuse, but- I started school. **_**School. **_**It freaking SUCKS! I have so much homework, it's just been interfering with my writing time. That's a horrible excuse. But now, I have one less thing off my goddamn back. Hey, this lasted longer than I thought it would- thats good, right? Right. And now, I present, the final chapter. It probably isn't as epic as I would've liked it...but...oh well. **

**Hey, a HUGE thanks to everyone who has read, reviewed, shared, or even taken a GLANCE at this story. I'm just..SO HAPPY I can take a sigh of relief that this is over. And if you've completely forgot about this story, because again, I can't update for shit, then I still appreciate your reviews and time you've spent reading this, when you could've been WATCHING South Park! Please review, and feedback is greatly appreciated! I LOVE YOU ALL, MON AMOURS! ENJOY! ~M:D**

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My stomach seemed as though it had sunken to the tips of my toes, and somehow disappeared altogether. It felt like my breath had been sucked from my throat with a straw, still lodged inside my mouth, refusing to let me speak. I sat in silent awe staring breathlessly at the awoken boy, peeking tiredly through slipping lids. It was only until he parted his lips, probably about to curse me out of his sight, did I fall aimlessly to the floor.

I brought a trembling hand to my mouth, still ajar in shock, and snapped my teeth against the salty skin to somewhat hide the sobs. The tears blurred my view of the bed, where Eric was laying ever so quietly, not speaking. Slowly, not wanting to scream, I unclamped my teeth from my digits, allowing a joyous yelp to commence. As the tears slid down my cheeks, once more coating them in a salty wash, Eric pulled himself far enough over the bar of the bed so he could glare down at me. "What the fuck?" He hissed, almost in question. "Where the hell am I?" I grinned at the familiar stern voice, laughing happily. Eric on the other hand just eyed the room, making his way to his own form.

"Eric," I mumbled through tears. "Y…your awake-"

"Damn straight I'm awake, Jew, now tell me where the _fuck _I am!" He snapped, leaning further over the bar.

"You're…you're in a hospital," I said slowly, making my way from the floor. "H-Hells Pass, actually." He brought his gaze back to mine, burrowing his brow.

"_Why_?" He almost whispered, obviously confused. I opened my mouth once more to speak, to try and answer his more than obvious question, when the door quietly squeaked open.

"Hey dude, I brought you some breakfa-" Stan's smile dropped instantly, and was replaced with a look of concern when he saw the awake Eric, leaning towards my figure. "C...Cartman-"

"Don't call me that, asswipe." Eric said darkly, lightly tugging on one of the wires connected to his arm. "Now seriously, who the fuck put you douche bags up to this-"

"Oh poopsie!" Liane squealed, pushing her way past Stan. "My sweetie pie is awake! Oh doctor! Doctor, he's awake!" She burst into tears, running to the bedside, tackling her son into an inescapable hug.

"_What the fuck is this_?" Eric shouts, tearing from his mother's grasp. Stan looks at me hopelessly, shooting me a questioning look. I shake my head sadly, bringing my attention back to the entangled pair. "Mom, get _off _me!"

"Poopsie, I-I never thought I'd see you again, oh my sweet baby boy-"

"Mom!" Eric practically screams, shoving her away from his body. Looking at the entering doctors with a look of horror glued to his unmoving face, he bursts into tears. "Mom…why…why are you crying?" His shaky words are cut off by a nurse who hushes him, pressing a finger to his lips.

"Now, lets try and stay calm, okay? We don't want you to further hurt yourself." The man in light green scrubs soothes, gripping his Eric's shoulder.

"Further hurt myself…" Eric strains, watching in terror as the thin blanket is pulled from his body, causing him to scream. "Get the fuck away from me! Get _away! _I swear I'll fucking strangle you if you don't get off me-"

"Sweetie, the nice man is just doing his job." Liane says soothingly, kissing Eric's sweaty forehead. "Just lay back and rest, okay?" Eric breaks into more tears, not even slightly trying to hide it.

"Why am I in a hospital, mom?" He whimpers, snatching his mother back into his arms, entangling his fingers in her violet fleece. "Please you guys, j-just stop whatever the _fuck _you're doing, its not funny-"

"Sweetie," Liane says through hiccups. "You're going to be okay, alright? Just lay back-"

"I will not fucking lay back! Tell me why the fuck I'm in a butt fucking hospital before I kill you all!" Eric howls, leaping forward, causing him to slide to the floor.

"I'm going to need to sedate you for your own safety if you can't calm down-" The nurse kneels by the weeping brunette, nodding. "So if I can have you just get back into the bed-"No! Fuck you!" Eric kicks the nurse in the jaw, so instinctively I lunge towards him, followed by Stan, who dropped the egg salad sandwich long ago.

"That's it, I'm going to sedate you-"

"Eric, stop!" I press my palms against his shoulders keeping him glued to the floor, causing him to yelp in pain. "Please, stop, just…you have to calm down." Our eyes connect, and instead of the angry, hate filled eyes I always assume to expect, their filled with nothing but fear.

"Kyle," He whimpers, trying to pull me against his chest. I straighten my arms, knowing that his ribs might still be broken.

"Stop, Eric." I instruct sadly, allowing Stan to kneel beside us.

"Kyle, maybe we should go." Stan suggests, tugging on my sleeve.

"No! You assholes can't just _leave_ me here!" Eric squeaks. "You have to take me with you! I don't want to fucking be here!" Stan stares at him mortified.

"Dude, you _have_ to stay here-"

"No, I fucking don't! Why the hell am I here anyway?" He retorts, slamming his palm into Stan's face. "Is this supposed to be some sick prank? Some really, stupid prank that you thought might be _funny? _Did you think it would be _funny _to watch me cry, because I'm so fucking scared? Explain to me exactly what the fuck this is-"

"Don't you remember?" I ask quietly, allowing him to claw at my jacket, attempting to find something to do with his shaking hands. "Don't you _remember _why you're here?" He lets another sob escape his throat.

"I don't know, Jew, or else I would've probably kicked whoever's ass is responsible a long time ago." Eric murmurs against my neck, sniffing.

"Than I guess when your better, you can kick mine." I try to chuckle, but it only causes tears to fall. He stares at me, confused.

"Kyle…_you fucking did this?_" I nod, allowing Stan to lead me from the room by my sleeve like a lost puppy. "Get back here Jew! Tell me what the fuck you did-"

"_Eric_," I start, stopping just before the door. "I put you in a coma for almost three months." There's nothing but silence, aside from Liane's weeping. "_How could you not remember that_?" Stan bites his lip, letting a tear make its way between his lips.

Slowly, he grabs my hand and leads me from the room. Slowly, we walk down the hallway, listening to the screams following our trail. And slowly, I realize that he might never remember. The thing is, even after I had dreaded the moment when he would despise me for all of eternity after he awoke and never had, or even _thought _to hate me for even a second, I almost wanted him to. Just to know I shouldn't feel this happy. Just to know it was really him.

We sat in silence as my dad drove us back to the apartment, where we has been housing Stan since he had decided he needed to spend every living second by my side to make sure I didn't do anything stupid. He and Stan made idle conversation, talking about what seemed like the _least _important things. It was stupid. They acted like everything was alright, even though there were still probably police camped out in my room. They would leave, as soon as we told them, but they would come running back. Back as soon as Eric sues me for everything I have- which is nothing, and I'm sent to prison. I rummage through the dashboard compartment and pull out a pair of earphones, sticking each one harshly into my ear. The rising beat rushed through my mind, as I quickly snapped my eyes shut, trying to lose myself in the music. _I'm about to lose my mind~ _I hear Stan laugh casually past the overly loud music, which I'm trying desperately to focus on. _You've been gone for so long, I''m running out of time~ _I peek one eye open, and see my dad jab his thumb against the radio tuner, flooding the car with an obnoxious tune. _I need a doctor, call me a doctor~_ I shoot upright, spinning the volume dile on the radio down.

"Kyle, what the heck?"

I_ need a doctor, doctor~ _It hurts. I claw at my eyes, feeling the tears flood past my closed lids. _To bring me back to life~_

"Stop! Stop the car!" I screech, slamming my fist against the window, taking the music with it. My dad eyes me, now panting.

"Kyle, whats the matter?" He rests a hand on my knee, which I quickly swat away seeing the car is only speeding up.

"I swear to fucking god dad stop the damn car!" I fly forward, hitting my cheek against the dashboard. Horns explode around our mini van, causing my dad to instinctively honk back. As soon as I sink back into my seat, expecting a rainstorm of curses and yelling, I only hear one thing. And it's me. Crying. Stan rustles around in the back before wrapping his bare arms past the seat, and around my neck. I lean back, and rest my head against his arms.

"Can you please take us back to the hospital?" Stan asks quietly, keeping his arms in place. There's no response, but soon enough the car roars to life, and we swerve back into traffic.

In the time it takes us to make it back into the now nearly empty parking lot, Stan's arms never left my neck. When we get out of the car, my dad stays put. "Will it take long?" He questions. Stan shakes his head.

"I don't think so." He smiles lightheartedly, taking my hand in his, locking our fingers together. I don't smile, and it's only until I fall into pathetic sobs does Stan fall to the concrete walkway holding me in his arms. "Kyle, everything's okay now. It really is, dude." I press my face tighter into the warmth of his chest, sniffing. A hand entangles itself into my frizzy locks, bringing me tighter to his chest.

"Stan?" I wipe my eyes against the soft red wool scarf Stan had wrapped around his neck before leaving the car, and peek past his shoulder. In the middle of the parking lot, hidden in a white blanket of snow, stood Wendy heavily bundled in purple, with her rosy burette held tightly in her hands. "K-Kyle..."

"Wendy? What are you doing here?" Stan questions, picking our bodies off the ground. "It's early." Looking down at me, knees held tightly to my chest, something of a grin tugged at her lips.

"He's awake, isn't he." Wendy said assumingly. I nod, and just as quickly, she falls to my height and wraps her arms around me, getting a somewhat irritated look of disapproval shed from Stan. I sniff once more, and realize she just started crying herself. "Thank god."

"Oh Jesus Christ," Stan whines, tapping his foot irritably. "Save it for fatass, guys. I'm sure he'll _love_ the attention." Wendy laughs quietly into my jacket, and picks herself up only to stand by Stan, who quickly pecks her on the cheek.

"Your right, he will." Wendy giggles, as Stan swipes his sleeve against her flawless cheek, removing the tears. "Would you guys come with me to see him? I don't think he would like it if I came and bugged him without you."

"We were actually just-" Stan looses himself mid sentence, his gaze drifting past me to the doors of the hospital. Wendy follows his stare, and when she is met with whatever he's so content on watching, she clamps her dainty hands over her mouth quietly crying to herself. I dare not turn around, as I hear the glass doors open, pushing aside the pile of snow that had accumulated there. The sound of a wheelchair sliding through the snow grows louder, inching closer to me at a painstakingly slow pace. When it comes to a hault, I sigh in relief, and make my way from the snow. When I turn to see what had captured their gaze, I almost faint when its sitting right next to me.

Eric looks at me sleepily, then to Stan and Wendy. Clearly sedated, I take a step back. Liane pushes the chair a few more inches, until looking over her shoulder. "I checked Eric out just a little while ago, so there's no need to come here anymore," She states sternly, not daring to blink. "Which is a good thing, because I could see how down this place was getting you kids."

"I didn't mind coming." I answer, mainly to myself. Liane drops her hands from the handles on the chair, only to clasp them together.

"Kyle, dear, please don't lie to me." I eye her, somewhat ashamed. "Sweetie, do you think you could help me get my little Eric into the car?" Liane asks Wendy, who quickly nods.

"Oh yes, of course!" She replies happily, following Liane, now wearing a heavy black coat with jeans and black heels to match. As I watch them walk into the distance, the car probably across the road, Stan tugs on my hair.

"Dude, get up." I do as told, and quickly fall into his arms, burrying my face and my shame against his chest once more. "Kyle, stop." Quickly bringing my face up to see his expression, I was somewhat relieved to see his worried face. "You need to go and make this right, because I swear to fucking Christ, Kyle, I will kill you if you don't stop crying all the damn time." Stan says somewhat seriously, cracking a smile.

"I will, dude." I assure, turning to follow the lines in the white sheet. "But don't leave me alone." Chuckling, he takes my arm.

"Never." As we walk towards the car, Wendy is leaning into the car, bent over Eric's limp body. Shuddering at his state, I close my eyes.

"Dear, could you put the wheelchair in the trunk, please?" Stan digs his elbow into my side, making me realize the question was directed at me.

"Oh, uh...yeah, sorry." I stutter hopelssly, tredging forward. Liane's soft smile is met with my scared shitless frown, which she quickly notices. "Sorry, I wasn't paying attention-" She sets a hand on my shoulder, motioning towards the backseat.

"I'm going to go and pick up some K.F.C for when my poopsie-kins wakes up, you're welcome to join us if you like." I stare at her, baffled, and quickly raise my hands.

"No, I couldn't, I-"

"Liane?" Wendy asks, finally clicking the seatbelt into place. "Would you mind if Stan came also? We can walk home after dinner,"

"Oh certainly dear, that's fine. But I'll drive you two, it's much too cold to be outside." Wendy smiles lightly.

"Well, thank you, I hope we're not being a burdan."

"Of course not! Dinner can be my way of thanking you all for visiting while he was here, how does that sound?" Liane questions, turning to me and Stan.

"That sounds...great." I mutter, hiding my gaze into her shadow. "T-thank you."

Liane nods, and I climb over the sleeping brunette with extreme cation. Wendy follows, and than Stan. When the door slides shut, so do my eyes. As I slip once more into the unconsciousness I slowly began to fear, I can just barley make out the soft honey eyes staring back at me.

_The bliss of floating on nothingness surrounds my figure, utterly weightless. I open my eyes, and am met with a shower of warmth. It wraps itself around my body, encasing me in a sweet serenity. Slowly but surely, I move along the imaginary clouds, a soft pink, and take in the smell of fresh tulips. The patches of navy blue flowers painted among the skies are all in full bloom, swaying in the breeze that seems to carry me along. As I close my eyes once again, taking in the bliss that was much too rare, I can't help but feel worried. Peeling my lids back with ease, already lost in sleep, my gaze wanders through the meadows of color trying to find the subtle discomfort. It appears, out of nowhere, and draws me to it like a magnet. At first, there's nothing. It was just the feeling, the knowledge that something isn't right. Then, out of nowhere, I was met with the same sleepy honey colored eyes I fell asleep to. Stumbling back, I was caught in a pillow of pink fluff. I just stare at the other boy, not knowing what to do. His imperfections had vanished, and were replaced with nothing less sheer of absolute perfection. I reach toward him, letting my fingers dance along his body. There was no heart monitor to interrupt my thoughts, just the calming voice of the wind. When my hand reached for his face, he captured my hand in his own. Saying nothing, he pulled me from my cloud cushion and wrapped his arms around me. Instead of the boney, weak arms I remembered, they were strong, and held me against his chest without much effort. "Why do you do this?" I ask, my voice echoing in the nothingness. "Why do you do this to me?" He breaks his grasp, pulling my shoulders so he can melt me with his stare._

_"Do what, Jew?" He almost sings, easing his hold._

_"Why do you torment me? This is the one place I can escape from my guilt, but than you always bring it back, even if I hate you for it." I spit, sounding more like a demon than a harmonious angel._

_"But you don't hate me for it." Eric points out, bringing me back into a hug. "And you never will." With those words, every sense of discomfort seems to float away, flying with the scent of tulips in the breeze._

_"You make me want to hate you, even if I can't." He blinks, casting our gaze apart._

_"You've hated me for other things though, Jew." He points out, gripping me tighter._

_"I have. I seriously fucking hate your guts most of the time, actually."_

_"But have you ever wondered if I hate you back?" Eric asks, floating from my hold. Only when his warmth is gone, does something seem to hit me. Looking up at his floating form resting sleepily on a light pink cloud, I sigh._

_"You should." His chocolatly brown eyes cast down on me once more, as he tilts his head so it falls slightly beneath the cloud. "You can't even remember how you got like this." I say sadly, dropping my head._

_"I do." I snap my head back up to the floating figure. "We were fighting, right? I mean, that's how we always do things. We fight, even if it's about something stupid. And you put me into a coma. I might not remember, but I believe you. You might hate me, but you would never lie to me." He says, allowing the cloud to carry him back down to me._

_"So when you said you only did those things that pissed me off, they were only to get...my attention?" I ask wearily, the brunette quickly closing the gap between us._

_"Even if you don't believe it, I would never lie to you, Jew." Eric assures, reaching out a meaty hand. When I reach out to meet his hand, his presence fades, turning into dust and floating away with the wind. Once again, I'm left alone, floating in my clouds of bliss_.

I moan, stretching my aching body across the seat. When my eyes peel open, I realize I'm the only one in the car. Looking out the window, I see we're parked just outside of the Cartman residence, the anti- hippy posters covering most of the door making that more than clear. Slowly sinking back into the seat, letting my lids fall once again, I decide that I'll be woken back up if I'm needed. Instead of falling back into bliss, I'm met with the sound of munching in the front seat. Shooting up, the leather seat squeaks, causing the noises to come to a halt. A pair of hazel eyes peers back to where I'm sitting, rolling sarcastically when they make sense of the horrified look plastered to my face. He grunts, and with an effort, climbs to my seat, where I now realize a pillow and multiple blankets had been piled on top of me. "Chicken?" He offers, holding up the near empty tub of skinless chicken breasts.

"N-no, thanks." I make a face, which he chuckles at.

"I saved you one with the skin, retard." He drawls, shoving a napkin against my chest. "The skins the best part, didn't you know that?" I nod.

"You would never lie to me."

I guess fate has its own way of doing things, even if you get fucked over in the process. It doesn't matter what you think, though, because somehow, things will get better. Even if your overwhelmed with the guilt that consumes you, fate might just be in the process of screwing you over. Time will pass. Things will get better, even if it hurts to have them work themselves out. The pain is part of fates fucked up plan, though. Even if all your problems seem to be working themselves out, and your guilt is slowly transforming into a rekindling friendship, there's always someone who comes along to eat your chicken skin. But at least you have a napkin.


End file.
